


Worth

by dovingbird



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-09 22:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1151608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dovingbird/pseuds/dovingbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One has been abandoned. One has been looked over. And one has been crushed into a pulp. It’s a desperate need for comfort and worth that drives them together for the first - and the last - time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth

It wasn't planned. But then again, nothing's ever planned when it comes to the Doctor, is it? Not far into the future, at least. Plans are made on the fly, on a whim, and then he spins around in circles until the next one comes along. Maybe that was why it happened. Maybe they spun around each other for so long, two planets in orbit, that eventually they had to collide for the billionth time. And if the impact pulled in an asteroid yet again, then there was nothing to be done about it.  
  
It began with the pyre. The fire. The agony radiating off of the Doctor with every step he took, every little twitch of his fingers. It was familiar. It was the brooding moments that overtook him so easily when last Jack knew his face, especially when chaos had just ripped through the world they departed. There was always a moment when the death count got just a little too high, the puddle of blood a little too thick, when he knew what was coming once they were locked in the TARDIS again.  
  
If it began with the pyre, then it matured through words. Jack was a wordsmith. He knew how to spin them from his days as a con artist, until he became a master of it all. The words weren't always pretty. Sometimes they were downright dirty. But they worked. And that was how Captain Jack Harkness found himself on his knees in the Doctor's room on the TARDIS once again. It was strange how the scenery was the same - every piece of furniture was exactly where it had been before - but the cast of players, they were different. At least on one count.  
  
This Doctor, for example, he had more things to unbutton. To unzip. More layers to cast aside. He had an almost pathetically lean figure. His hair mussed easily, and he didn't seem to actually mind it all that much when Jack touched it. Eventually Jack was borderline desperate for one thing - just _one damn thing_ \- that was the same.  
  
And then he found it.  
  
"Not every part of you's different, is it?" It was the loosening of the Doctor's underwear that spawned this remark. "This here, this looks _exactly_ the same." All right, so he felt a little like he was in a bad 80's porn, but he was on the verge of giddiness just from remembering it all. He couldn't do much better than that. He gave a little deft turn of his wrist and heard a gasp, the little hiss through gritted teeth that he knew so well. "And you still like _that,_ huh?" He flicked his eyes up to the man's face and tried to learn its ticks, its expressions, even as he leaned in. "And I wonder...if you still...like..."  
  
And then the door flew open and Martha stepped in and everything went rather pear-shaped.  
  
"Oh my God-"  
  
"Holy-"  
  
"Martha, I-"  
  
"-I have GOT to learn to knock-"  
  
"No, it's okay-"  
  
"You don't have-"  
  
And then the door slammed shut again and left the air thick.  
  
"Oh, bloody hell."  
  
Jack sighed heavily through his nose as he glanced back up at the Doctor. Times like these helped him look about his age, even when he was naked as a jaybird and rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "You didn't tell her anything, did you?"  
  
"'S not her business, is it?"  
  
"She's your companion."  
  
"Yes, my companion. My friend. And that's all."  
  
Jack scowled as he got to his feet. He grabbed the shirt he'd cast aside and pulled it on, began to button it.  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
"Well, _someone_ needs to talk to her, and it's not gonna be you, is it?"  
  
The Doctor cast his eyes across the room and raked a hand through his hair.  
  
"Oh no. Especially if it means getting your hands dirty digging through the past like that."  
  
The veins in his neck bulged as he tensed his shoulders, but he didn't look. Didn't say a word.  
  
"All right, that's fine. Stay in your head. Stay in that little warzone. Don't even try to look around and see what else might be waiting for you. That's. Just. Fine."  
  
And because just under his skin the Doctor was still the coward who fled the Time Vortex, he didn't say a word as Jack slipped away.  
  
The TARDIS might be bigger on the inside, with more than enough places to duck in and hide, but Martha was decidedly predictable. He breezed through every room, every little corridor, until he found the wardrobe, until he caught sight of her. She kept her back to him as she leaned into the mirror, eyes steadfastly focused on herself, jaw tight.  
  
Jack cocked his head to the side as he sauntered in, studying the way she stood. Read the tension running all through her. "...you like this room, don't you?"  
  
She turned her head even further away from him. Her eyes turned toward the floor.  
  
"There's something about it, isn't there? Knowing that little pieces of that man are scattered all through here?" Jack paused beside a scarf dangling from a hanger, so long that even when looped around it three or four times it still almost brushed against the floor. "Every fraction of his personality for as long as he's been alive, each tiny piece is captured somewhere in each of these."  
  
"I didn't know you were a fashion consultant."  
  
He snorted, lips pulling into a grim smile. "Honey, I've been on a makeover show like you wouldn't believe."  
  
He wandered a little longer down the aisle, each step taking him closer to her, until his eyes caught on an end table holding a vase, a celery stick tucked inside. And a purple shirt. It wouldn't have been especially noticeable to anyone else, not with some of the colliding colors in this closet, but he came to a sudden stop, just like his heart.  
  
He sucked in a slow breath.  
  
"It's always something else, isn't it?" Martha asked softly. "You know, I've looked in this mirror a hundred times and tried to figure out what was wrong, but I still can't find a bloody thing."  
  
Jack reached out. His fingers were shaking a little. When they brushed the fabric he felt them burn.  
  
"At first I thought it was just her. You know? I thought maybe he was just...Rose-sexual, if that even exists."  
  
He picked up the shirt. It was soft - God, it was soft - just like her hair.  
  
"I even thought about dyeing my hair blonde. Can you believe that?"  
  
He snapped his eyes up to her, wrinkling his brow. "Don't ever do that."  
  
"But it's not that, is it?" she went on, as if he hadn't said a word. "It's not that at all. It's something else. It's _me._ "  
  
Jack looked at the shirt in his hands again. It was a moment of weakness, just a little one, but he lifted it to his face anyway. He breathed in.  
  
Nothing but the soft musk belonging exclusively to the Doctor. He'd sucked this shirt dry.  
  
He closed his eyes, fingers tightening around the shirt. "Do you know something? I'm sick and tired of the way you look at him."  
  
"Well, excuse me for-"  
  
"No, _no,_ not because of you. Not because of anything you've done." He looked up, met her eyes through the mirror. "No, it's because of that bastard, that _blind_ son of a bitch. God _damn,_ but he's always been like that."  
  
Martha blinked. She furrowed her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Nothing's wrong with you. The man's just _dense._ He's an idiot."  
  
"He's a genius."  
  
"Except when it comes to things like this."  
  
She finally turned her head and met his gaze head-on. "What exactly do you mean?"  
  
Jack held her eyes. He felt the fabric between his fingers. And then he huffed out a sigh and set the shirt back where it was. "I promise there's nothing wrong with you. And that'd make a lot more sense if that guy actually _talked._ C'mon."  
  
"Where are we going?"  
  
It didn't matter. He knew she'd follow anyway. But he was tired of seeing her looked weary, like she was just following along like a confused child, and so he glanced over his shoulder. "Kitchen. Want some tea?"  
  
She was British. She nodded.  
  
"It was this party, you see," Jack began as the tea steeped. "We decided we needed a little break - y'know how it goes, you fight enough baddies, you watch enough people die, and eventually you need a vacation just to stay sane - so we end up in the sixties. Nice decade. Fantastic music, and Rose looked damn good in some bellbottoms...and the _Doctor._ Well, you throw him in that leather jacket of his and he just fits in anywhere."  
  
"Leather jacket?"  
  
He rubbed his chin. Just the memory set a spark under his skin. "I wonder if he still has it...anyway. We end up in this smoky little house where everyone's drinking, dancing, getting high. Celebrating peace and love, they said. So we figure we'll fit in just fine. It was the Doctor that started the shots, actually."  
  
"You're kidding."  
  
"Cross my heart! I think he'd seen enough. I think...even then maybe he knew what was coming."  
  
Martha was the one who poured the tea. Old habits die hard after a few months of being a servant, Jack decided. "But what _was_ coming?" she asked.  
  
"Bad Wolf," Jack muttered. He ran a hand through his hair with a huff. "And everything that meant."  
  
"He...hasn't told me much about it. Anything, really."  
  
"That much is obvious. Remember our graceful meeting?" He grinned at her as he tossed a handful of sugar cubes in his tea. Only way to drink it, really. "Something told me I hadn't come up that much over the days you'd been traveling. Me _or_ her, for that matter."  
  
"Rose."  
  
"Bingo." He stirred his spoon through the tea, watched the surface spiral. "Rose got drunk first, bless her. Absolutely pissed. Thought I was just gonna walk her back to the TARDIS, let her sleep it all off, but out of the blue she just...laid one on me." He chuckled. "That girl knows how to kiss, I tell you. And, well, I'm not gonna say no, am I? Not when I'm already tipsy."  
  
"Why am I not surprised?"  
  
He glanced up and winked at her. She really was lovely when her skin took on that deep, dusky red blush. "Yeah, well...anyway...I wasn't really expecting the Doctor to just show up like he did, not when he seemed pretty occupied with the bong -" Martha spluttered, but he kept on. "-but there he was suddenly, just sort of...watching, I guess."  
  
There was silence, silence he supposed she was waiting on him to fill, but after he took his first long sip of tea her curiosity took over. "Did he do anything?"  
  
"Oh, not at first. You know him."  
  
"He's lonely," she murmured with a lowered brow.  
  
"Yeah, but he thinks he deserves it." He leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on the seat across from him. "I guess you don't really need to know all the details, but...things happened. A lot of things. And then we sobered up. And then things were never really...quite the same."  
  
"Did they _keep_ happening, though? Those things?"  
  
He stared into his tea.  
  
"...I'm sorry, never mind, I don't mean to-"  
  
"They did," he said softly. "But only at night. Only when we couldn't sleep. And never all three of us, not unless...not unless we'd just lived through Hell for the billionth time." He'd be a permanent resident there one day, he decided, if his trips hadn't earned him enough frequent flier miles yet. He shifted in his seat with another sigh. "No, Rose and I, we took care of each other, and there were nights where the Doctor'd wander in to talk and soon the words wouldn't be enough to keep it all at bay...and I can almost guarantee the same happened with them. But I never saw it. Never heard it." But he remembered the little things. The hand touches. The eye contact across the room. The secret smiles. He remembered them all. "They were good about that."  
  
"...she must have been...perfect."  
  
"Who, Rose? No. No, far from it, actually. But she was ours." He paused, tapping his finger against his tea cup. "And I think, for the Doctor, that she was the first one that really mattered. She tempered him, made him a better creature. Calmed the roar in him. And that's not something easy to give up. Perfect isn't something the Doctor cares about. Never has. No, he likes the fight even when it's pointless, the flaws you have to beat your way through to get better. He would say she was...fantastic." That word, even after all this time, all those years, could still put a wry smile on his lips.  
  
"But even after all that, all you lot went through together...he left you."  
  
More silence. Jack sat up and planted his feet on the floor, leaning into the table. "Yeah...yeah. He chose her."  
  
"Don't you blame him for that?"  
  
He chuckled. "'Course I do. Always have. But this universe doesn't take kindly to letting you have it all. You have to make a choice every damn time, or, I don't know, something gets unbalanced."  
  
Martha licked her lips as she wrapped her hands around the cup, as if keeping her fingers warm. "...so today, when I walked in...I was interrupting some kind of...reunion."  
  
"No." He shook his head. "No, you were interrupting him running again. I just happened to be in the way."  
  
"But you seemed to be enjoying it," she said with a little smile.  
  
Jack laughed again, meeting her eyes across the table. "Martha, I've got a little secret for you...there's never been a man, woman, or alien that I _couldn't_ enjoy."  
  
There it was, that blush again. God, he liked that color on her. "Then you didn't have to come after me. You should've stayed and just...just-"  
  
"You needed an explanation. You needed to know, for once and for all, that there's nothing wrong with you."  
  
That smile turned sad as she glanced down at the table again. "I'm just not her."  
  
He traced his bottom lip with his index finger in thought. "...no. Not necessarily." He flicked his eyes to the door. "Maybe it's not us at all." And then he came to his feet and started walking, only slowing to grab hold of Martha's bicep. "C'mon."  
  
She blinked at him as she abandoned the tea cup. "Where're we going?"  
  
"To find the Doctor."  
  
"No! No, I-I don't want to-"  
  
"We're getting this sorted out _today,_ Martha."  
  
She dug her heels into the floor and jerked her arm out of his hold. "If I don't want to see him, I don't have to."  
  
"Martha..." He faced her and reached out, gently taking her shoulders in his hands. "...according to the universe, I've only known you for a day. Maybe two. But you know the truth. You and I both do. I've known you for over a year now. I've watched you do what has to be done, even if it puts you at risk, even if all hope seems lost." She was trying to look away, trying to keep her stubborn face, but he wasn't having it. He lifted a hand to cup her cheek. And _that_ was enough to jolt her eyes back to his, wasn't it? Enough to make her flush. "...and that's why I know that if there's even just a glimmer of a chance that he'd stop treating you like secondhand goods, even if it's just for a night, you'll take it."  
  
Her lips thinned, but she wasn't looking away. He took that as a victory.  
  
"He's been through Hell today," Jack whispered as he stroked his thumb along the softness of her cheek. "And he'll lock himself inside of it if he gets a chance."  
  
"I'm not just a therapy tool," Martha murmured, shaking her head.  
  
"No. No you're not. And he knows you're not. You're more than that. So give him one last chance to see it."  
  
She bit her bottom lip as she looked away. "...I can't handle much more of this. I can't. It splits me in half every time."  
  
And that was about what split him in two. He might find every good-hearted thing in the universe attractive - even a few dark and dangerous ones as well - no matter what parts it had for him to drive wild, but he had a certain fondness for women. He had to admit that he did. And watching one get kicked around like a dog by one man's obliviousness was enough to make him boil inside. "Just one last chance. That's all I'm asking for. Not just for him. But for you too." And if it failed, then he'd warm her himself. Make her forget all about that blind bastard.  
  
She closed her eyes. And then she nodded. "All right."  
  
"C'mon."  
  
She was a strong girl, that much was sure, but he could feel the courage draining out of her with every step they took. Every room they walked through had her slowing a little more, trailing behind him, until he finally reached out and took her hand. Lacing his fingers with hers seemed to help, but he still ached to do more for her.  
  
He knew how it felt to love the Doctor to distraction and yet never get quite enough of him. While he had the man's kisses, his taste, his body, he'd never experienced how it was to hold his heart. Not really. Now, he could push past that. He could easily find someone else to kiss instead. But it was never...quite...enough.  
  
 _One more time,_ he thought. _One more chance._ And maybe this time it'd stick again.  
  
They reached the console the instant that the Doctor was emerging from his room. His busy fingers slowed at tightening his tie. He stood in the door.  
  
That was the same too, Jack decided. A shift back to his previous form. The silence he took when things got just a little too tough.  
  
But there was something sick in this, wasn't there? In the fact that he was staring straight at Jack, with his eyes never once flicking toward Martha. And Martha was _beautiful._ She was _glorious._ And there was no way in hell that the Doctor couldn't see that.  
  
The boil inside of him turned to a spark. And he was pulling Martha forward before he could think, even as his mouth opened to hiss out "What's wrong with her?"  
  
The Doctor finally looked at her. His eyes flicked over her from head to toe just for a moment, for less than a second, but Jack saw it, and it made the man's silence even more frustrating.  
  
"Tell me. Fucking _tell me,_ what's wrong with her?"  
  
The Doctor slid his hands into his pockets. Rocked back a little on his heels even as he looked away. "...you know why."  
  
"No." Jack shook his head. "I didn't ask why. I didn't ask anything like that. I asked _what's wrong with her._ Anything? Is she ugly? Is she cruel? Does she only care about herself? Is she a selfish bitch? What's _wrong_ with her?"  
  
"...nothing."  
  
"Nothing?"  
  
"Nothing's wrong with her."  
  
"Then what the hell is your problem?"  
  
"Oh, because that would make it easy, wouldn't it?" The Doctor pinned him with his eyes. There was a spark in them too, dangerous and sharp, and it took his breath away. "If it was just one thing? If I was just being stubborn?"  
  
Martha turned, began to walk away, but Jack grabbed her arm and held her there even as he never moved his eyes from the Doctor's. "She's different, isn't she? You've always known she was. Different skin. Different hair. Different scent. That's who she is. She's _Martha._ She's not trying to replace _her._ She's better than that, than trying to become someone else, because who she is right now is full of worth instead. And you know that, don't you?"  
  
"I can't," he breathed, shaking his head.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
And that spark flared, made his eyes light aflame, his teeth grit, and this time when the Doctor took steps toward him Jack fell back one. Just the one. But how could he not? "You know why, Jack!"  
  
"Oh, I know a _hell_ of a lot of things, Doctor. I know you think you have a monopoly on Rose. On her memory. I know you haven't even stopped to think about how _I'm_ dealing with the fact that I'll never see her again. That I thought she was dead for months before you came along. I know you think you're the only one who ever knew her, knew her for _real._ Well, you're wrong. I knew her too." He watched the Doctor flinch, but they were both stubborn assholes in their own way, and that meant he wouldn't look away. "And I know she was beautiful and strong and fun and absolutely _fantastic,_ and that she was a good person all over. One of the best people I've ever known. Sure as hell better than _you._ She loved with her whole heart, her whole being, and all she would ever want was what was best for those she cared about. And do you know what that means? Deep down inside of her, under that nineteen-year-old heart that's still so much a girl, she knows she's never going to see you ever again. That anything she could've had with you is lost. And that you should be free to move on."  
  
"Don't do this to me, Jack."  
  
"You have _permission_ to look somewhere else. It's okay. It's allowed. And you may not be a human, but you're more or less a man. And that means that when a woman like Martha Jones walks by, for a moment, just a _moment,_ time stops even without the use of your fancy TARDIS. Have you felt that?"  
  
The Doctor stared at him. And then he looked at Martha. And the look that crossed his face, contemplation mixed confusion and more than a dash of protective warmth, that was what kept Jack talking.  
  
"When you catch her smile, see her talking to a kid, hear her laugh, watch her make tea, notice the way she did her hair, realize that every piece of clothing she wears is picked out just hoping you notice it...have you felt it?"  
  
"...yes."  
  
"Then why the hell are you gonna punish not only her, but yourself, by acting like it's never happened? Why not just let yourself be happy again?"  
  
The Doctor shook his head with a little breath. "Because it's not fair. Not to her. Not to me-"  
  
"It's not fair to let yourself be happy? When you won't ever see her again?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"I remember, Doctor. All those nights when everything went to Hell. When you thought you were alone." He paused. "You never heard the drumming. But I know you heard the screams."  
  
Jack coaxed Martha forward again. He stood her in front of him, where he could see over her head, where he could feel her warmth. The Doctor was still watching her. Still staring into her eyes, like he could read her mind.  
  
"...and I'll be damned if I leave you to it tonight when you've got two people here that love the hell out of you. Who want to give you some peace."  
  
The Doctor took a few slow steps forward, his spine straight, his hands still hidden away. He paused just in front of Martha.  
  
She'd been so silent through this whole exchange. But now she reached up and touched the Doctor's sleeve. "...will you let me help you, Doctor?"  
  
He swept his eyes around her face, every inch of it, as he smoothed her bangs from her forehead. "Martha Jones...what agony you've been through this past year. And all for me." His fingers brushed over her cheek. His thumb tickled over her bottom lip. "And for some reason...you want to do more."  
  
Jack felt Martha shiver. She leaned back into him for support and he wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her firm.  
  
"I've kissed you once already, Miss Jones," he murmured, voice scarcely over a whisper. "Would you fancy another?"  
  
"...yes," she whispered back.  
  
The Doctor slid his fingers into her hair. Moved all the closer. And then he dipped his head and kissed her.  
  
Jack could swear that he felt Martha give up the ghost in that moment, with the way her legs nearly gave out from beneath her, but he held firm. He even gave a little smirk. "Finally."  
  
The Doctor was the one who broke the kiss, who cast a faux glare up at Jack, but it didn't matter, not when Jack was radiating that sense of giddiness again. He wasn't going to let this be all there was. He wasn't going to let this man sink deeper into himself, let this woman throw herself in her bedroom and lock the door. So he dug his fingers into her hips and pulled her all the tighter against him as he nipped at her neck.  
  
She gasped and dug her fingers into his hair, breathed out his name in surprise. And the Doctor...well, he was never one to let himself be outdone, not his past self. He pressed another kiss to Martha's lips as he wrapped an arm around them both, hand snug against the small of Jack's back, until Martha was tucked tightly between them.  
  
She wasn't Rose. It was true, she felt different, _smelled_ different. But she was intoxicating all the same. She wasn't a replacement. She was something new, something vibrantly alive, something that brought out the insatiability in both of them if only for the night.  
  
She would make her choice tomorrow. He saw it in her eyes. But this time she would make it for the right reasons. She would leave knowing what she deserved. And that was what mattered.


End file.
